


another one in my conspire

by thunderylee



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2019-01-30 19:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12659493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Insert clever euphemism here about rocking the booth.





	another one in my conspire

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

It’s kind of the same, kind of not. Bright, flashing lights, loud music, beautiful people. Koyama thought he would miss singing and dancing after NEWS broke up and he left Johnny’s, but it’s actually nice to just move to his own beat and not worry about doing it _right_.

Nobody watches the DJ, anyway.

But Koyama watches them, blending easily from one remix to the next with his headphones snug on his ears as his body moves naturally. The sea of people with different faces, hair and clothes of all colors, dancing with enough energy to power the entire city in this small underground club. Every night after his shift is over, he sees stars behind his eyes and hears the constant pound of bass in his ears even when it’s dark and quiet, but he feels good.

As long as he keeps moving, he’s happy.

It’s a good crowd tonight, wall-to-wall bodies on both the dancefloor and crowding the bars. Sometimes Koyama watches the bartenders flip shot glasses and do other tricks that make him a bit envious, but then he remembers that _he_ is the DJ; _he_ is the one who controls the atmosphere through the music he chooses.

Right now, he _owns_ this place. The knowledge alone makes him smirk, his confidence rising with the tempo as he catches a bartender’s eye and signals for a drink. The other man nods on beat and Koyama feels important, returning to his mixing as he sees a cup of water get pawned off on some random patron in a hoodie who starts wading his way through the crowd towards him.

Koyama thinks nothing of it, maybe he’ll learn the kid’s name and ask him what song he wants to hear, give him a shout-out for bringing him his drink. He doesn’t usually take requests but sometimes he makes exceptions, depending on how he feels.

As comfortable as he is in his own private booth, he jumps and nearly scratches the record when one side of his headphones is pushed up and cold air blows into his ear. He turns towards the stranger, ready to let him have it, but all of his quickly-acquired rage comes out in a forceful laughter as he looks into familiar eyes.

“Pi!” he nearly screams after flipping off the mic in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was free!” Yamapi yells back, his face just as relaxed ever as he grabs Koyama by the shoulder and gives him fist pound followed by a fierce man hug. “Here, I brought your water.”

“Ah, thanks.” Koyama feels sheepish as he accepts the plastic cup. “You want to hear something in particular?”

Yamapi smiles with his eyes. “Nah, anything you play will be fine. Is it cool if I hang out up here with you?”

“Of course,” Koyama replies, turning back to his digital soundboard. “It’s kind of boring, though.”

“That’s impossible!” Yamapi declares. “Nothing is boring with you.”

Koyama focuses on mixing to keep from blushing. One of the many things he misses about NEWS is Yamapi’s constant praise, making him feel like more of a star than any stage ever could. Just having him here now, bopping to a different beat than Koyama like usual, is enough to have his heart feel warm with nostalgia and something like friendship.

He starts to lose himself in the music again, and this time he doesn’t flinch when Yamapi touches his arm. He looks up to see Yamapi practically in his face, back to the table in front of him with a look in his eyes that Koyama can’t define.

“Want to do one?” he asks, sounding more uneasy than he really is with how loud he has to speak. “It’s really easy to flow into the next song, I’ll show you.”

Yamapi just shakes his head as he sings along with the chorus and Koyama feels even more entranced with Yamapi’s voice in his ear. A tug on his arm pulls his leg between Yamapi’s and it’s almost like they’re dancing, still moving to two different beats but it works, even when Yamapi leans up to ask him something.

“Can anybody see us in here?”

Koyama’s blood runs cold, recognizing the depth in Yamapi’s voice and igniting an instant paranoia that _everyone_ could see them, could see Yamapi clearly putting the moves on him as the hand on his arm travels over to his waist, sneaking under the hem of his shirt to finger a belt loop.

Nobody watches the DJ.

“Pi,” is all Koyama can say, not even loud enough to hear himself as Yamapi swings around Koyama’s body, pressing up against him from behind and Koyama’s eyes roll back into his head at what he feels digging into his ass, accompanied by the harsh puff of air on the back of his neck as both of Yamapi’s hands settle on his belt and Koyama’s only thought is _down_.

It’s mindless how Koyama gradually changes the beat, turning to a sultry beat with sexy lyrics that’s good to grind to. Yamapi’s breath on his skin is followed by his mouth and Koyama pushes back on instinct, the resulting groan going right down his spine despite being unable to hear it. He queues up a couple songs that follow the new theme as he notices the people down below getting closer as well, dancing a little dirtier and less inhibited.

His breath gets caught in his throat when Yamapi drops a hand without warning, going straight for the bulge in Koyama’s pants and squeezing it intently. Yamapi’s mouth makes its way to Koyama’s partially-uncovered ear and Koyama’s nerves tingle with anticipation for whatever filthy thing Yamapi is about to say to him.

“I want to fuck you right here,” Yamapi rasps, his grip on Koyama’s length enough to show how hard he’s trying to hold back, to not just bend him over the soundboard right here in the DJ booth that’s only about a half a floor higher than everyone else.

“Okay,” Koyama replies dazedly, falling back into Yamapi’s embrace that claims him even as he struggles to pay attention to what he’s doing. Mixing is something he could do in his sleep, which is a talent that comes in handy when he feels his belt get unbuckled and a hand shoves right past his waistband to wrap around his cock directly.

It’s crazy because they haven’t done this before, with all of the years they worked so closely together it took a chance meeting in the DJ booth of an underground club to unite them like this. Yamapi can’t keep his lips off of Koyama’s neck, using his teeth a little and making Koyama twitch in his hand. Koyama can feel him practically shaking with anticipation against his back, takes his own hands off of the equipment long enough to reach behind him and grope at what he’s been feeling rubbing against him this whole time.

Now he hears Yamapi’s moan, which is followed by the absolute dismissal of any restraint Yamapi may have been showing as his resolve breaks like a damn and Koyama’s pants and underwear are pushed down his thighs before his brain can catch up with him. Yamapi came prepared and slick fingers probe between his legs, leading Koyama to balance himself with one hand on the edge of the table as his legs automatically spread as far as they can.

He bites his lip as Yamapi stretches him, rough and pointed and off-rhythm. It throws off Koyama’s internal beat and he almost misses his cue, gathering enough coherence to find the longest dance mix in his collection and tossing in a few sound effects for a quick and dirty segue. The crowd loves it and he’s grateful for the peace of mind to just let go and give himself fully to this man who’s easing his way inside him, his other hand gently rubbing Koyama’s hip in contrast.

Then his body goes stiff when Yamapi grazes something deep inside him, a growl directed into the very top of Koyama’s spine as Yamapi concentrates on that spot until Koyama wants to claw his way out of his own skin. It stops abruptly as Yamapi’s touch disappears completely, leaving Koyama feeling embarrassingly empty until something soft and blunt presses against his opening and he forgets how to breathe.

Yamapi mumbles something into his skin, Koyama can’t quite make it out but it sounds comforting, strong arms wrapping around his waist and calming him considerably as his body accepts Yamapi wholly inside him. It feels like too much and not enough at the same time, his own hips pushing back on their own even when Yamapi bottoms out. He feels Yamapi’s cock throbbing inside him, or maybe that’s the music, which is a firm reminder that they don’t have a lot of time before Koyama will need to work again.

Yamapi starts to move and it’s better than Koyama could have ever imagined, harsh grunts against his shoulder as Yamapi builds up speed and Koyama has to brace himself with both hands on the table to keep from falling over. It leaves his own cock neglected and bouncing with the force of Yamapi’s thrusts, which seem to be timed to the bass line or at least the one in Koyama’s head.

He wants to touch himself, to get off with Yamapi inside him but he can’t let go, can’t voice his needs and even if he could he wouldn’t be heard. He leans his head back but all he gets is Yamapi’s mouth on his throat, which is nice but not nearly as nice as one of those hands around his cock again.

“Pi,” he gasps desperately, turning to get a face-full of Yamapi’s hair, and as a last ditch effort he rolls his hips up to brush Yamapi’s clasped hands on his stomach with the wet head of his cock.

It works; Koyama would breathe a sigh of relief if he could remember how to. Fingers tighten around his flesh, moving up and down as fast as Yamapi can turn his wrist, and Koyama doesn’t even have time to think before he’s on the edge, fighting to maintain some kind of stability as Yamapi fucks him harder and he’s coming, they both are judging by the way Yamapi shudders and bites down on the juncture of Koyama’s neck and shoulder.

The song fades into a slow beat that Koyama repeats as he regains his composure, feeling like his heart will beat out of his chest and he’ll hyperventilate with how hard he’s breathing. What little brain power he has gets him into the next song, just in time to slump to his knees and try to focus through his hazy vision to see what the damage is.

What he sees is Yamapi flopping down next to him, offering a sated half-smile as he eyes the palm of his hand – that answers that question – and promptly wipes it on the inside of his hoodie.

Koyama wrinkles his nose. “I have tissues… somewhere…” he wheezes out.

“It’s okay,” Yamapi says carelessly, waving him off. “It’s Jin’s.”


End file.
